


turn the lights down low

by arkstation



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 10 Things I Hate About You AU, AU, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, I JUST WANT THEM HAPPY OKAY, Modern AU, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3683481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arkstation/pseuds/arkstation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aurora Blake has one rule in her household: No dating until Bellamy does. Octavia's ready to challenge this, enlisting Clarke Griffin to seduce her brother into dating her. (10 things i hate about you au)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Wait, slow down. What the _hell_ are you asking me to do?” Clarke asked, narrowing her eyes and slowly dropping her sandwich onto her paper bag. She honestly couldn't believe what she was hearing.

Octavia tapped her long, manicured nails against the lunch table, sighing. “God, it’s not that hard to understand. It’s just Bellamy we’re talking about.”

“Yeah, except you’re asking me to date him. I’m going to have to pass on that one.” Clarke snorted and took a sip of water.

It wasn't that she totally hated Bellamy Blake. Okay, so maybe she did. Just a little bit. There was no distinct moment that caused her to hate her best friend’s brother, but rather a chain of events involving a sloppy joe, a root beer spilt all over his copy of _Bulfinch’s Mythology_ (it was an accident, _okay_?), and two snarky attitudes that in no matter what situation, clashed. And besides, his cockiness was downright annoying. They’d kill each other the moment they were in a room alone.

“Claaarke!” Octavia whined, pressing her lips into a line. “You know my mom’s rule about dating! Lincoln wants to take me out, you know. Sailing. Sailing, Clarke! Did you even hear me? By rejecting this idea, you’re practically telling me that you don’t even care about my feelings. Come on! I’m a junior and I’ve never even kissed a guy, do you know how many other girls here can say that? None of them!”

It was true, take away Octavia’s dramatic flare to the situation. Aurora Blake had instilled a rule into the younger Blake that she would never date till Bellamy did. And that meant never, judging by the fact that Bellamy would rather die than give Ark high’s male student body the satisfaction of going out with her. 

Once, when Octavia had forced Clarke over to decide what to wear on her date with Finn, she had challenged her mother’s rule, only to get a retort like _kissing isn't what keeps me up to my elbows in placenta all day long_. Ever since, Octavia had gone to drastic measures to prove her mother wrong in small ways.

It seems that her newest development in her plan would be this. And Clarke Griffin was not going to assist in this, no way. Not when it was Bellamy Blake that she’d have to be kissing, pretending that his jokes were funny, listening to his boring history facts. Not in a million years.

“Octavia, have you forgotten that your brother and I hate each other, or has it completely left your mind?”

Octavia bit her lip, cringing. “He doesn't _totally_ hate you.”

"Or the time he 'accidentally' threw a sloppy joe in my hair?" Clarke still had stains on the dress Octavia had guilted her into purchasing.

Octavia held in a laugh. “Yes, and so has he, Clarke! Come on. For me?"

“Even if I were to agree to this plan-” Clarke started, but was quickly interrupted by Octavia’s squeal.

“Oh my god, so you’ll do it? You really will?” She was practically jumping up and down in the plastic seat, grinning wildly from ear to ear.

“God, no. But I mean, for real, O. Do you really think that I could manage to seduce that inflated ego of his when he hates my guts?” Clarke pictured herself flirting with Bellamy and suddenly felt a wave of nausea roll through her. Then she pictured him actually flirting back and nearly threw up at the thought. _No thank you._

“Never say never,” Octavia crooned.

“I’m going to have to say it. Never.”

Octavia gave her a look Clarke’s known since they met at the age of ten and eleven: she widened her large green eyes till they practically took up her entire face, sticking her bottom lip out just a smidge, pleading. She even nudged her half empty can of Arizona tea into her side of the lunch table.

Unfortunately, that was the look that always gave Clarke a moment of weakness. And she really, _really_ liked Arizona tea.

“So if I do this…” And before she could finish her sentence, Octavia was already hopping over to hug Clarke tight enough to knock the air right out of her.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! God, you don’t know what this means, Clarke. And I mean, Bell isn’t really that bad. You’ll see.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Clarke grumbled, already feeling a headache on the rise. “And you’re helping me with college apps for this.”

Octavia waved her off. “Love you too babe.”

_What the hell have I gotten myself into?_


	2. Chapter 2

Nope, nope. She wasn’t doing this.

Clarke Griffin could handle a lot of things. She could handle seeing her childhood best friend’s dead body right in front of her. She could handle seeing her boyfriend kiss another girl. She could handle midnight fights with her mother about what she’s doing after high school. But there’s one thing Clarke Griffin isn't going to handle well, and that’s Bellamy Blake.

_Maybe I should just tell Octavia that she can pick him up from practice and I’ll find another way to meet him in private,_ Clarke thought _. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. Easy._

And that was the plan, until she got home to immediately face her mother.

“Clarke, honey! How was your day?” Abby Griffin asked, her words drenched in honey. Clarke grimaced.

“It was fine.” _Except for the fact that I have to get my arch nemesis to practically fall in love with me._

Abby gave her a sickeningly sweet smile. “Listen, I asked the girls at the hospital if they could let you follow them around for a few days and see how the whole medical facility worked and they agreed to it. I’ll pick you up from school early and you can scrub in and everything, how’s that?”

It was always push and pull with her. Abby’d always push her into medical school, her materialistic life, _this is where you’re meant to be, Clarke_. And then Clarke pulled away quickly.

She wasn’t sure about what she was doing, really. But she’d seen her mother with patients before. They’d die on the table yet she’d come home as if nothing had happened. She just couldn’t imagine being in that mindset of losing someone and still taking a paycheck.

Art. That’s what she was good at. Her hand itched for the charcoal pencils her father snuck in on her fifteenth birthday to create something wonderful. She changed two of her clinical classes her mother forced her to sign up for and switched them for sculpting and painting. She’s dragged Octavia to more art museums than she can count on her fingers and toes.

_But it’s just not a steady income, Clarke. When you grow up, you’ll get it._

“Not interested, mom,” Clarke said, pushing her way past her, toward the stairs. She still needed to call Octavia to let her know.

“Honey, art isn’t going to pay your bills. And besides, how do you know you’re not interested unless you try it?” Abby asked, pleading.

Clarke took a step back to face her mother again. “Can you just leave it alone for like, two seconds? It’s just not what I wanna do.”

“And why not?” Her mother’s gooey exterior was slowly crumbling, becoming cold and hard again.

She bit her lip. “I just can’t be you.”

Clarke ran out the house before she could see her mother’s expression.

So she drove. Drove and drove and drove. She even pulled over at one point to text Octavia about how she couldn’t pick Bellamy up from practice, but she only got a _im with lincoln and moms working the night shift, sorry babe! :*_ in reply.

She sat on the bleachers, finishing up a sketch of a certain someone on the fields when they made eye contact. At first, he squinted his eyes, as if he were dreaming (or having a nightmare, more like), but then widened them before turning back to the field.

_Maybe I should stop drawing people who look at me like that._

Bellamy Blake, as tough as it was for her to admit, was beautiful. As in, he had the kind of features that you’d see carved into statues in museums across Europe, the subject of paintings; moving art. She tried too many times to make up an excuse for why she had at least two sketchbooks full of sketches of him; his hands, his jawline, his back all featured in rough notebooks. The only thing she could come up with was that she was simply an artist noticing aesthetically pleasing features. And yet it still bothered her.

After the whistle blew, ending practice, Bellamy slowly approached her. She slid the pencil between the rings and tucked the sketchbook under her thigh.

“Hey there princess. Uh, how you doing?” He asked cautiously, hard on his heels.

Clarke struggled to not maintain her usual disdain but couldn’t help the snort that came out. “Great. You’re sweating like a pig, by the way.”

“Now there’s a way to get a guy’s attention, huh?” He gave her his famous crooked smile and she had to remind herself to draw him in that position when she got home.

“My mission in life.”

Bellamy shifted on his feet, a rare move on his part. “Uh, anyway, what are you doing here?”

Clarke coughed. “Um, Octavia and ‘Rora can’t make it here tonight, and O promised me a strawberry milkshake for lunch tomorrow, so I’m here,” Clarke said. Then she said the last part under her breath: “unfortunately.”

“Gee, princess, how generous of you to make time from your busy schedule to help a low life like me out.” Back to his sarcasm, of course. She knew it was only a limited amount of time before they could stop being civil toward each other.

“Shut up or I’m leaving you here,” She said with false sweetness.

They walked up the steps to the parking lot together and she could have sworn that her hand had bumped into his more than once.

_I’m only noticing because he’s going to have to be my boyfriend soon._

He threw his soccer gear in the back seats and took the passenger seat in the front with a slight scowl.

“Aren’t you a girl?” He asked as she pulled out of the parking lot.

She gave him a sneer. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, aren’t you guys supposed to be clean or something? God, you’re a pig.” He removed a McDonalds wrapper from under him and let it float to his feet, then gestured toward the console, which was cluttered with pencils and crumpled pieces of paper.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Not everyone can be a neat freak like you. Now shut up, I like this song.” She turned the indie rock song on higher.

“Of course you do.”

Most of the way to the Blake house was silent, but she could have sworn he was smiling as she shouted the lyrics of the song at the top of her lungs. 

Clarke was walking into her Government class when she was slammed into the wall. Instinctively, she grabbed the attacker’s wrist and twisted as hard as she could before remembering where she was.

“Woah, chill! It’s just me, Clarke!” Octavia laughed, ghosting a hand against her red wrist. “Sooo? How did the date go?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “I picked him up from soccer practice. That’s hardly a date.”

“Well, have you _at least_ secured a date with him?” Octavia looked at her with wide eyes, hopeful.

“You keep forgetting that he hates me,” Clarke said, “so no, I haven’t secured a date with your asshole brother just yet.”

Octavia sighed. “Lincoln isn’t going to wait for me forever.”

Clarke softened, sucking on her bottom lip. “Yeah, yeah, I know O. I'm trying.” She kicked a flyer with her feet before inspecting it closer. She smirked. 

“Do you think your brother goes to parties?" 


	3. Chapter 3

“You can’t be serious,” Octavia laughed, gripping the paper tightly.

Clarke gave her a half smirk. “Dead serious. You want me to take your brother out, Jasper’s party is the perfect opportunity!”

“I’ve known my brother since he was one. I’m going to seriously doubt he wants to go to a kegger, much less a kegger with _you_ ,” Octavia said, prepared to ball the flyer up before Clarke snatched it from her hands with a deadly glare.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “ _Never say never_ ,” she said sarcastically, repeating Octavia’s words from three days before.

“You want to get this over with as soon as possible, don’t you?” Octavia nudged her teasingly.

She shoved the flyer into her backpack. “What do you think?” 

 

**Clarke: i can pick bellamy up from practice again today**

**Octavia: rly??? are u really up for that kind of torture**

**Clarke: i have to give him the invitation unfortunately**

**Octavia: good luck :***  

 

Clarke had barely bothered going home the night before, hanging out at a local diner, Grounders, until one of the waitresses told her it was closing time. But by then, it was midnight and surely her mother was asleep.

A talk would probably be in store when she came home, and she was far from prepared for whatever her mother was going to say. She needed a moment to calm down before the storm rained over her, and she knew just the place to take cover.

It was a house in the seedier part of town, shadowed by overgrown trees and grass that had yet to be mowed. The shutter paint was peeling and Clarke had a feeling that termites would start to eat the door away soon. But she liked it. As in, liked it a hell of a lot more than her uppity street, bourgeois, bored families surrounding her on every side. It was quiet here. People didn’t constantly ask her where she was going for college, what major she was going for, what she wanted to do five years from now. She was just Clarke. Not Clarke the Medical Student, Clarke the Artist, Clarke the Girl Who Didn’t Know What the Hell She Was Doing. Just Clarke.

She rang the doorbell, tapping her foot against the worn Welcome mat before the red door finally opened. Immediately, she was greeted with a hug.

“Hey Clarke! What’s up?” Raven asked when she let go, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jeans. Her body was still in a slight limp, but Clarke could barely notice, thankfully.

Raven, Clarke, and Octavia were the three musketeers of Ark High despite an age difference in all of them. Now that Raven was working as a mechanic at Ark City’s only auto repair shop, it seemed that they’d all moved on. Clarke was always free to steal bits of Raven’s time to talk, but things felt different now. She wondered whether it would go the same way for her and Octavia when she left for art school. If her mom _let_ her go to art school.

Clarke sighed in relief. “Hiding. Mind if I stay for a little bit?”

“Mom’s being a bitch?” She knew her so well.

“As always,” Clarke said, smiling sarcastically before coming in.

Raven snorted. “Bellamy Blake? Really?”

“I’m doing it for O,” Clarke groaned, head in her hands, letting her fingers massage the crown of her hair.

“Last I saw him was last year. Is he still as hot as a senior as he was as a junior?” Raven asked in a half-whisper, mischievous grin upon her features.

“I can hear you!” Raven’s boyfriend, Wick, yelled from the kitchen with a chuckle. Clarke glanced to see the familiar scruffy haired engineer and smiled softly.

Raven and Clarke had been through tough times, for sure. It was sophomore year when Clarke had met Finn Collins, a seemingly sweet guy in her grade, destined for the peace corps. He was perfect. That was, until Clarke slept with him and the morning after found out that a girl named Raven Reyes, back from a school for training future auto mechanics (she later told Clarke that it was too easy, hence the reason for her return halfway through the year), was his girlfriend. He made Clarke the other woman.

At first, it was slightly awkward to have to pass by her every single day walking to her algebra class, but then the brunette pulled her aside one day and announced that they were going to be best friends whether either of them liked it or not. Raven traded embarrassing stories about Finn for Clarke’s warnings of other fuckboys at the school. They protected each other from the types who brought them together, and thus a beautiful friendship was born.

Raven had always been cautious of other men since the Finn incident, only going for brief flings and one night stands to satisfy her need for human contact. And it left Clarke worried for most of high school till Raven called her one night, a few weeks into her job, announcing that she had met an automotive engineer at a bar. The rest was history.

“So are you really going to date him?” Raven asked, eyebrows knit.

“I’m going to have to. O deserves this at the least, you know?” Clarke mumbled. Octavia’s seen Clarke with too many boyfriends and she’d helped her through all of them. She deserved a little romance herself too.

“You’re going to have to reverse like, everything he’s ever thought about you, you know that right?” Raven asked carefully.

Raven may have been a year older than Clarke, but she knew all well of her relationship with Bellamy. Or the lack thereof.

“Don’t remind me.”

**Octavia: btw, bell’s fave band is coming to play like tomorrow**

**just thought u should know**

**maybe get some tickets????**

She watched as he looped through traffic cones and kicked a goal into the net over and over and over again. It wasn’t mesmerizing the way his calves flexed as he moved around or how his hair still looked perfect despite the muggy air that was making hers look like she just got a really, really bad perm. The way his jaw line tightened whenever he was in a tough position wasn’t attractive in any way. Exactly why she _totally_ wasn’t drawing him again in her sketchbook.

(Except that she was.)

So when he came off the field, she pretended to look like she was inspecting the setting sky, blue and purple blending together like cotton candy.

“Beginning to think you’re harboring a huge crush on me,” He said, this time walking beside her with confidence, a stark contrast from his awkward jumble the day before.

“Is that why everytime I see you I gag?” Clarke slipped out, then bit her lip. Operation Date Bellamy was becoming harder and harder to accomplish whenever he opened his mouth.

“No need to get sweet on me, Princess.” He grinned, purposely bumping his hip into hers. She held the spot for a moment like a burn.

They walked to the car in silence, the kind that she didn’t mind, the kind that she wasn’t afraid was awkward. It was the comfortable kind.

She pulled the flyer out of the console as soon as they settled in. “Are you going?” She asked nonchalantly while practically shoving the paper into his face.

“Jasper Jordan’s party? Really?” Bellamy snorted.

Clarke took an inaudible deep breath in before speaking again. “You should go. I am.”

“All the more reason not to attend,” Bellamy said in a tone different from the one he usually used in her direction. _Was he flirting?_

“You might have fun for once,” Clarke said. “can’t put your history books down for one second and get horrifyingly drunk and not remember what happened the next day?”

“Are you sure you’re trying to convince me to go to this party now?” Bellamy sniggered. “I’ll think about it.”

Clarke smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

When she came home, her mom was sipping a cup of tea, watching the news. She immediately turned it off when they made eye contact.

“Clarke! I haven’t seen you all day. I know you’re an adult, but you need to give me some clearance before you just run off.” Her tone was light but she knew what was underneath. Accusation. Her mother was an active volcano, constantly bubbling to the point of near eruption. Clarke wondered when she’d finally blow up.

Clarke sighed. “Sorry.” She slipped off her shoes and prepared to run upstairs and hide for the rest of the night and sketch the day out.

“We need to talk,” Abby said, her eyebrows knit, “can you just stay down here for a moment?”

Clarke shifted on her feet. “Um, yeah. Sure.”

“So,” Abby said brightly, smiling again, “I sent a few applications in for you today.”

Clarke stood, stunned. “Excuse me?”

She had considered applying to a few schools, of course, but they were going to be art schools. Her portfolio was already less than a quarter unfinished for Chicago and she’d already sent one in for UCLA and ASU. The farther away from Ark City, the better.

“Brown, Amherst. John Hopkins, you know. You have the potential, Clarke. I’m just trying to help you see it,” Abby said beggingly, holding her daughter’s hands in hers, “you could get in with your grades.”

Her mom didn’t get it. She’d never get it. An asteroid could hit the front of their house right then and there with a sign reading _Clarke is meant for an art school_ pinned to it and Abby Griffin still wouldn’t get it.

Clarke ripped her hands away from Abby’s. “Mom, I don’t want to go to any of those schools, don’t you get it? I’m not meant to go pre-med.”

“It’s not always what you’re _meant_ for, Clarke. Can’t you just try for me? For once in your life be grateful for the opportunities I give to you?” Abby asked bitingly, shifting considerably from her tone moments ago. “I am doing the best I can as a mother and you just push me away! Don’t you understand how hard it is for me to raise you after your father died? Why won’t you just do this for me, just once?”

Clarke bit her lip. “I just-”

She didn’t even realize what was happening until she felt the sting against her cheek and her mother’s hand raised in the air, guilty. Shards of a teacup littered the carpet, letting the amber water from the cup stain the floor. The volcano had erupted.

Clarke cupped her cheek with her mouth open, her rapid heartbeat tattooed against her chest. It was hard not to look at her mother in shock but she still managed to get up calmly and walk out the door, letting it shut softly.

It was almost as if she was still in shock as she slowly climbed into her car and pulled out of the driveway. As if the whole moment had been a part of a made for TV movie and she was watching it very closely. But it’d happened.

It wasn’t till she turned into another street that she pressed the gas pedal a little harder, shut her eyes for a little too long, gripped the steering wheel till her knuckles turned white.

She was tired of it. Tired of constantly feeling like she had to do something her mother wanted her to do. She went to all of the galas, dancing with boys she didn’t like and took the classes her mother wanted her to take but for what? Her mother’s world wasn’t hers.

And maybe she was alone in this world. She was a princess lost in her own kingdom and she just wished she could stop having to run away for once in her goddamn life.

Driving through her neighborhood made her want to steer closing her eyes till she got out. Every mansion, every sports car in the driveway, every perfectly manicured yard was a simple reminder of the world she was living in. The world she needed to break free of.

Their world was artificial; glass pretending to be steel. It was going to break eventually and Clarke was going to be the first to crack it.

So when she arrived at the Blake house, now drenched from the rain, she couldn't be happier to see Bellamy Blake at the door.


	4. Chapter 4

“Clarke,” Bellamy breathed, widening his brown eyes, “what the hell are you doing here?”

Clarke laughed bitterly. She almost contemplated telling him as she looked into his eyes. They looked so different from how they usually looked at her, like he actually cared about her.

“Uh, can I stay here for just a little while? Like, maybe a few nights?” She asked hopefully. She practically knew the female Blakes as family but Bellamy was almost a stranger. Invitations were never asked for from them until now. “If it’s okay with you,” She said quickly.

He nodded then silently gestured for her to come in.

“O isn’t going to be here till like, nine, she has a study group-” which was code for hanging out with Lincoln, “but you can take a shower and borrow some of her clothes.”

He was avoiding looking at her now, she knew. He looked at the places around her, the couch, the history documentary playing on the TV (or at least she guessed it was), the floor. Anywhere so he wouldn’t have to notice her.

“Thank you so much.” She almost contemplating hugging him. She really needed one of those right now. Human contact, the kind that wasn’t a slap in the face. Warmth. Love. Comfort. She looked over at him once and trailed toward Octavia’s bathroom and ran a shower.

_How stupid am I?_ Clarke wondered, quickly rinsing the shampoo out of her hair. _Running off just because you’d rather do a finger painting than save lives? How pathetic can you get?_

She wiped herself off with a spare towel from the closet and did her best to keep her eyes from looking so puffy. Walking down the hall to Octavia’s room, she noticed the family portraits she’d seen a million times. _You can’t stay with them forever. They aren’t your real family._

“Who is my family?” She asked out loud, stopping at a particular photo of the three Blakes. They were all grinning from ear to ear. Real smiles, unlike the ones that hung at her house, plastered grins adorning each family photoshoot her mom would spend a fortune on. A door behind her creaked open and she nearly dropped her towel in surprise. “Jesus!”

Bellamy stood behind the door, knitting his eyebrows. “Did you say something?”

Clarke shook her head. “Just talking to myself.”

“Weirdo,” Bellamy said, smiling.

She flipped him off and turned away, walking again, but she could still feel his look.

Octavia came home and took Clarke in her arms immediately. The familiar crushing of her ribs now felt so much more comforting than usual. She would miss this when she’d have to come home.

“You okay?” Octavia whispered in her ear, still wrapping Clarke in her arms.

Clarke debated lying, but ultimately shook her head. “No.”

They released each other, and Octavia turned toward Bellamy. “We’ll be in my room. Don’t bother us or I swear I’ll bite your ear off.”

Bellamy stuck his hands up in a surrendering motion. “No worries.”

Octavia was sobbing by the time Clarke had finished the story, but Clarke was mostly dry-eyed, only a few tears slipping down her cheeks.

“God Clarke, why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?” Octavia had her arms around Clarke’s neck.

Clarke sighed. “It wasn’t this bad until tonight. And I mean, she only slapped me, but she’s never been physical, you know?”

But it was bad. The straw that had broken the camel’s back had been the physicality that took place that evening, yet it somehow felt minimal compared to what had been going on before. It was constant pushing and Clarke having to muster up the strength she had left to pull away. It was only tonight that she felt that she broke out of her glass castle.

“Only? Come on, Clarke, she hurt you with intention.”

“And I’m still going to have to be the one apologizing when I’m forced to come home,” Clarke pressed her lips into a line, “it’s going to be easier to do that if I stop making myself the victim.”

Octavia opened her mouth into an O. “Don’t you dare. Stay with us. Please? I know our house isn’t as big as yours and we’re sort of surviving on my mom’s night shifts at the hospital but please stay. You’re eighteen, your mother doesn’t have custody over you. Just until you go to Chicago or California or somewhere else far from here. Please?”

Clarke shifted awkwardly against the carpet flooring. The offer was awfully tempting. “I don’t know, O. Shouldn’t you ask your mom about this?”

“Please. You practically live here anyway. She wouldn’t even notice.”

Clarke snorted. “Maybe. But I’m getting a job. I’m not mooching off of your mom’s paycheck.”

It was three in the morning when she snuck out of Octavia’s room, removing a skinny arm lying across her stomach, and tip-toed down the stairs, wincing whenever she made a sound.

It was the typical nightmare; Wells on the hospital bed, dying. But this time instead of Abby having to perform the surgery to save him, it was Clarke. And she had no idea what she was doing.

The dreams always came suddenly but never out of the blue. Once a week at the least she’d wake up panting in her bed, pooled with sweat; drenched in a nightmare. Sometimes it was her dad, other times it was Wells. But they’d always hit her so fast that she’d wake up on the verge of screaming her lungs out.

She slowly walked her way toward the kitchen but noticed the lights were still on.

Weird, Clarke thought, but walked closer and closer till she saw a familiar figure standing by the island, tall, dark, muscular. Bellamy.

“Can’t sleep, Princess?” He asked, a hint of surprise in his groggy voice.

She shook her head. “Never can.”

“What are you doing here, anyway?” He asked, then realized the rudeness in his words and corrected himself, “I mean, no offense.”

Clarke laughed bitterly. “None taken. Nightmares. No big deal.”

“No, I mean, like, why aren’t you at home?” Bellamy asked, softer this time. It was almost like he cared. Like he genuinely wanted to know what was going on. But then she remembered that she was trying to get him to like her, not be afraid of her. The last thing she needed was for Bellamy to treat her like they were walking on eggshells.

She sighed. “Mom’s being a bit of a bitch. It’s whatever.”

“What, mom didn’t buy you the right dress for the donation gala this weekend?” He asked, this time malice in his voice. “Or did she get you the wrong color iPhone? Which one, Princess?”

Clarke winced at the sudden change in temperature in the room. It felt twenty degrees cooler, like all of a sudden they went from fairly civil back to being complete assholes to each other. She should’ve expected this after the few days of momentary bliss.

She almost heard her mother’s voice in him.

“I didn’t choose to be this way. God, do you think you can read me? You can’t. If you really thought that low of me, you obviously don’t know me at all.”

Bellamy rubbed an eye and sighed. “I’m-”

“Goodnight Bellamy.”

Neither of them slept well for the rest of the night.

The next morning, the three ate their breakfast in silence.

“How did everyone sleep?” Octavia asked hopefully, her eyes flashing in between the two.

“Fantastic,” Bellamy grumbled.

Clarke let out a cold laugh. “Right.”

“Is there something I don’t know about?” Octavia narrowed her eyes. They both shook her head and that was the end of conversation for the morning.

When Octavia hopped into Clarke’s car, she immediately drilled her.

“What the hell happened?” She asked, turning the music to a mute. “I thought you guys were getting close to becoming like, friends or something.”

Clarke turned the music back up. “It’s nothing. Your brother is an ass, end of story.”

**Octavia: what did u say to clarke**

**Bellamy: something i kind of really regret**

**Octavia: and what exactly is that**

**Bellamy: kind of called her a spoiled princess**

**Octavia: jesus bell**

**do u ever turn off the asshole switch and be nice to people??**

**Bellamy: i’ll say sorry**

**Octavia: its gonna take more than that u know**

The next time he sees her, she’s in the library during his aide period where he works.

He feels bad. Like, really bad. She’s kind of bossy and a little too fiery for his taste, but she’s staying with him and his sister for a few more days and he’d rather not torture the two of them with silence.

She’s musing through the art history books when he taps her shoulder, covered by golden hair.

“Excuse me, have you seen _Art_ by Andrew Graham-Dixon? I just _need_ to read it again,” He said, giving her a crooked smile.

She looked at him with a grimace. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here for the period, and besides, I think we’re having a poetry reading here in a few minutes.”

She almost smiled for a moment but then spoke before he could be sure. “You’re so…”

“Charming?” He asked, but she’s already turning and walking into another aisle, away from him. “Wholesome?” He continued, following her.

She snorted, turning toward him again, whipping her hair. “Unwelcome.”

“You know, you aren’t as bad as I thought you were, you know that?”

“And you’re just as big of an asshole as I always thought _you_ were,” She rolled her eyes, scowling. She scanned her eyes toward the big shelf in front of them before drawing a book out and slamming it into his chest.

 _Art: Over 2,500 Works from Cave to Contemporary_ by Andrew Graham-Dixon, it read.

**Bellamy: ur right she’s still pissed**

**Octavia: told u**

**besides why do u care?? ;)**

**Bellamy: considering she’s staying with us for a few more days i’d like her not to be super pissed at me the entire time**

**Octavia: few more days?? try the rest of high school**

**Bellamy: WHAT**

**Octavia: forgot to tell you ha nvm tell you later**

**anyway, she likes art**

**if you want her forgiveness do something with that**

When Clarke walked to the school parking lot to go back to the Blake’s, there was a huge set of oil paints, canvases, and a brand-new copy of _Art: Over 2,500 Works from Cave to Contemporary_ by Andrew Graham-Dixon waiting in the passenger seat, with a piece of paper ripped from a notebook signed _-B_.

She broke out into a smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda felt like this chapter was a huge block of dialogue so i apologize for that but hopefully the fifth chapter is a little better??? and SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING im a student obviously and updating can be hard w tests and assignments you feel me


	5. Chapter 5

When Clarke sees Bellamy again, it’s at a concert. A Black Keys concert, to be specific. And it was probably the best thing she’d seen all week. Because he was dancing. Bellamy Blake, _dancing_.

To be fair, she dragged Raven with her and they’re dancing as well, considering the band, which she’d only just heard of that day, wasn’t too bad. She thought she was going to assail her ears tonight, but instead she had a new band to listen to.

“I’ll be right back,” Clarke said when she saw Bellamy walk toward the bar. Raven smirked and almost looked like she’d say something, but stopped herself as the band sang the chorus.

She asked for two waters loudly over the sound of Fever, standing right by his tall frame. She felt his eyes gaze over her, inspecting her strapless blue dress with something so unfamiliar that she nearly shuddered in his stare. It was _intensity_.

As she glanced back at him, she wondered how he managed to maintain eye contact with her, not looking away for a second like the night before. It was so heated, so warm. How didn’t he feel the burn?

“You’re everywhere, aren’t you?” Bellamy asked teasingly, nudging his elbow lightly into her ribs.

She looked at him with eyebrows raised. “Would you mind? You’re kind of ruining this for me.” She gestured into the air.

“You know, considering you like the Black Keys, I’m probably gonna have to find a new favorite band,” Bellamy said with a smirk.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Well, they’re no Radiohead, but they’re not bad.”

Bellamy looked at her like he’d never seen her before, surprised. “Radiohead. You like ‘em?”

She bit her lip, remembering why she had known the band. The day Octavia and her skipped eighth period to look through his things, the day the plan took flight.

_“You’re asking me to investigate the inner workings of my brother’s twisted mind? I don’t think so!” Octavia said, mouthful of her sandwich._

_Clarke took a sip of Octavia’s tea with hesitation. “I mean, we need to go behind enemy lines here. I don’t know enough about him.”_

_Octavia paused for a moment before dropping her sandwich and holding Clarke’s wrist, green eyes shining. “I know exactly what we can do.”_

So they spent an hour rummaging through Bellamy’s weirdly clean room (no wonder he had a fit in Clarke’s car), finding concert tickets, schedules, and the worst- _condoms_. Used, to be specific. Octavia nearly had a stroke.

“Well, don’t you?” She smirked and walked closer toward Raven, who was watching them closely with intent.

Bellamy smiled back and took a sip out of her water bottle. She bit back her urge to say something sarcastic but let it slide.

“You know, I saw you dancing over there with your friend,” Bellamy said loudly over the music, giving her his famous crooked grin.

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

The music was dying down but he still remained his club-volume voice. “I’ve never seen you look so sexy.”

Everyone around them laughed, but Clarke only looked down at the concrete ground, hiding her blush. For a moment, she forgot about her objective; dating Bellamy only for Octavia. It’d been getting harder and harder for her to remember, it seemed, the longer she was around him. She looked back up to see him still looking at her with a grin.

“Come to Jasper’s party with me,” Clarke said, taking one of his hands into hers. He didn’t pull away. In fact, he squeezed it.

“You never give up, do you?”

She shrugged. “Was that a yes?” She held herself onto her tip toes so her lips are ghosting over his neck.

“No,” He said, pulling his neck from her lips to let his forehead is almost touch hers.

_Is he going to kiss me?_

She yanked herself from his gaze. “So it’s a no?”

“No,” He said again, a glint in his eyes.

“See you at nine thirty then.”

“Considering you’re living with me right now, I think I’ll see you before nine thirty.”

Clarke laughed. “Touché.”

Sometimes, Clarke forgot she was eighteen. She was an adult who could make her own decisions decisions without having to constantly ask her mother for permission. She didn’t need to ask her if she could move into her friend’s place.

As soon as Octavia suggested the idea to Aurora Blake, the mother was already signed up. _No explanation needed, honey._ Clarke forgot what names like _sweetheart_ and _honey_ sounded like when they weren’t drenched in sarcasm and lies.

She asked Octavia to drive her through the neighborhood to get all of her belongings. She didn’t want to open her eyes to see the glass palace again. She might end up getting cut by one of the shards.

Clarke made sure that they got in before her mother came back from her shift as head surgeon to get everything. She wouldn’t know how to bear seeing her without crying again, or worse, if she kicked her out before she could take anything along with her.

She didn’t take too many things. Art supplies, books. Photo albums of her and her friends, her father. Notebooks. Loose cash.

Clarke gave the room one last look before shutting the door for the final time.

“All moved in, huh?” Bellamy asked, leaning against the doorframe as he watched Clarke place the rest of her things around Octavia’s room. She tried to take up the least amount of room she could, but in the small space there was left, her attempt was futile.

Clarke sighed. “Yeah. Thanks, by the way.”

Octavia had left her stranded as soon as she drove her back to the Blake’s house, now Clarke’s home, saying something about a study group she should really head off to.

_“And then you and Bell can have a little alone time unpacking all of your stuff,” Octavia whispered, winking before taking off in Bellamy’s car._

“So what do you usually draw?” Bellamy asked, glancing at a large pile of art supplies in the corner.

Clarke’s face turned hot and felt the sudden desire to throw away every single sketchbook she’s had since she was fourteen.

“Well, um, I draw people, I guess. A lot of drawings of people,” Clarke breathed. It wasn’t a complete lie, either. She did draw people. There was just one specific person, who just so happened to be asking the particular question, who was the subject of most of her doodles.

He seemed to notice her slight discomfort, so he only said “cool”. Bellamy then pushed himself from the frame. He announced that he’d be taking a shower and left the room.

Clarke took a deep breath. _Thank god he didn’t push any further._

__

He was on the couch downstairs when she got done getting ready. She had pestered Bellamy into going to the party that advertised itself as a kegger, but she’d never gone to one herself. No time to, in between clinical classes, art projects, forced pretentious social gatherings pressed by her mother. What the hell was she supposed to wear? Were these flats too dressy for something that was obviously so casual? Were these jeans going to get uncomfortable?

But as soon as he looked at her, it all seemed to stop mattering.

 _It’s all a part of the plan. Acting_ , Clarke thought, as she met Bellamy’s gaze. Recently, it’d been harder trying to maintain that mindset.

“So,” Bellamy said, standing up after his daze, “are we waiting for O?”

Clarke shook her head. “A friend’s picking her up.” She didn’t mention that that friend was Lincoln.

“Cool.”

As soon as they arrived, they were hit by the too familiar scent of sweat and weed.

“And look at all the fun I’ve been missing all of these years,” Bellamy said sarcastically, gesturing toward two teens spitting in a vase.

Clarke laughed. “Let’s get drinks.” She grabbed his forearm and dragged him toward the table cluttered with various bottles of alcohol, pushing past several people who were already buzzed.

She was just about to grab a cup before she felt something push her into the table, and liquid _something_ hit the back of her shirt. Glass from one of the bottles knocked over lay in shards on the floor and pricked at Clarke’s legs. She winced.

“Ohmygod, I’m so sorry!” A girl behind her giggled, clearly not. Clarke touched the back of her tank top, then smelt her fingers. Alcohol, of course. She’d be lucky if it was pure vodka.

“Bitch!” Clarke whispered loudly, rubbing her fingers together as if it’d magically dry her shirt. She stared at her feet, watching them begin to prick with blood.

“You wanna go back home?” Bellamy asked, his features laced with worry. He lay a hand on her back, over the stain.

Clarke shook her head. “I asked you to come to a party with me, I can’t just force you to stay here alone.”

“I meant more like the both of us, Princess. You’ve got glass in your skin,” Bellamy said with an eye roll. Clarke noticed how the nickname no more held malice behind it. “we can get takeout and watch a movie, if you want. And fix you up, too, obviously.”

She looked into his eyes, searching for any signs that he was lying. “Are you sure that that’s what you’d rather do?”

“Princess, no offense, but there’s a reason I haven’t been going to parties like this for the past four years.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s go.”

She changed into her most comfortable clothes and got back downstairs to hear Bellamy ordering Chinese food in the kitchen.

“Uh, hi, can we get some fried rice and General Tso’s Chicken? And some regular rice and sweet and sour chicken, thanks,” She heard him say. She smirked. He remembered her order without even having to ask. _And I thought pretending to like him was going to be hard._

A part of her still wondered whether she was pretending to like Bellamy Blake or if the constant fluttering of her heart against her chest was real, but then she saw him glancing at her from the kitchen and gave her a wide smile. Clarke couldn’t help but give him a shy smile back.

For once, the thought of liking someone in a different way than she liked Octavia with didn’t scare her as much as the others did. It terrified when she was with Wells. The thought that she might one day wake up in love with Finn terrified her considering the fate of his predecessor. But Bellamy felt comfortable. It was like all these years that were built up till they finally became kind to each other was like coming home from school after a long day. Bellamy was her home.

_God, I’m fucked._

When their food got there, they sat on the couch, inches away from each other. She felt his heat radiating from him and wondered whether she should scoot over and meet him all the way. She was about to move before he handed over the remote.

“You know I’m going to pick some lame history documentary,” Bellamy said, half embarrassed. She let her eyes trail over to the millions of DVDs in a bookshelf beside the TV and wondered how many were Bellamy’s that he’d tried to force Octavia into watching. She almost laughed.

“I almost forgot that you were a history nerd,” Clarke observed, “and to think I almost thought you were cool.”

“Oh shut up, art geek.”

She picked the Disney version of Hercules. She knew he’d have a fit over how they got all the mythology wrong, but she liked to think that it was still a compromise. Her love for cartoons and his love for mythology.

If someone would have told her last week that she would be taking Bellamy Blake’s feelings into consideration, she would have laughed. _God, that egotistical asshole with a slight hero complex? Yeah right._

And yet here she was, head in his lap as he ran a hand through her wavy hair lazily, eating Chinese takeout. Happy. She was happy.

Happiness had always been somewhat of a luxury in her life. Sure, she was happy when she could knock a few beers down with Raven and not feel obligated to get totally trashed. Or when Octavia bought her a tea without asking her to. But they were little moments. Her happiness had been stolen all her life from her mother, only caring for how she looked in front of the rest of society. But this moment felt like an infinity in the best way. She felt like she could lie in his lap till the universe exploded and the stars started falling. She’d melt with him if that meant she could hold onto this happiness forever.

The credits rolled and she was just about ready to fall asleep on his lap when he asked her a question. And to think she'd get out of the moments without tears.

“So why exactly did you run away from home?” He asked softly. “I mean, if you wanna answer.”

Clarke sighed, slowly rising. “Um, my mom was just… She was forcing me into applying to these big colleges that I just don’t want to go to, and she wants me to go to pre-med. I just can’t do it. Maybe if I was smart I’d know that that’s where I should be, but I can’t do it, you know? I just can’t. And I told her, right? I told her and she-” She paused to let out a sob.

He ran a hand from the top of her head down the the small of her back. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anymore.”

“She slapped me. She slapped me and _I_ feel bad. I wake up in the middle of the night and instead of dreaming about killing my dead best friend or my own father I’m terrified that maybe this was my fault, that I’m being a spoiled brat. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this.”

She looked up to meet his eyes. He stared at her like she hung the goddamn moon and she couldn’t bring herself to wonder how he could when she was broken.

“You have nothing to feel bad about, you know that? Nothing. You have your own dreams, don’t go off chasing your mother’s. You can be whoever the hell you want here. You’re safe. But don’t let anyone ever make you feel like you don’t deserve what you want, especially your mom.”

These words would dig themselves permanently into her brain for the rest of the night. She wondered why for so many years she had been so mean to him. Why her main goal when coming to the Blake house was to rip at his self esteem for cheap laughs. She'd spend her whole life regretting those lost years, she decided. Till the end of time.

Clarke tucked her head into the space between his head and shoulder. “You’re a good person, you know that Bellamy?”

“You’re a good person too Clarke. A bit of a pain in the ass,” He said teasingly as he pressed a kiss onto the top of her head, “but good.”

They went to bed shortly after until she woke up again for a glass of water.

“Can’t sleep again Princess?” A deep voice asked.

She ran a hand through her hair. “Nope.”

“Same here.” he raised a glass of water into the air.

“Why can’t you sleep, Bell?”

He shrugged. “I guess it’s because there’s a whole half of the world that’s awake. It’s just hard to just fall unconscious when you think that there are people on the other side that are doing things, getting shit done while I just lie in a bed for eight hours, you know?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“So are you,” He said, trailing closer to her. She noticed how she could barely see the brown in his eyes anymore, pupils blown. “you know, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she chose not to let it affect her for the moment. “You know,” Clarke said, her nose touching his, “you’re cuter when you shut up.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “So you think I’m-”

She pressed her lips to his, interrupting him. Wrapping her arms around the back of his neck, she opened her mouth slowly to let his tongue in. He held her waist in his hands, digging his fingers softly into the skin on her back.

After a few seconds, Clarke pulled away, letting her forehead touch his. She wished she could freeze time to just stay in that position forever. Tell him how she really felt. Count the freckles that dotted his face like stars in the sky. Stare into his eyes for an infinity. Instead, she took a mental photo and pushed herself from his body, immediately feeling cold.

“Goodnight, Bellamy.”

She didn’t bother looking back to see his expression, but she wished she had.

 

 ****  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!! im sorry for the hella long wait time between each chapter but the summer creates this laziness that's kind of hard for me to snap out of...... and yes the party scene wasn't quite like it was in the movie but idk i just really wanted this cute little stay at home and watch a movie scene between them so?? and it was kind of a short chapter too ugh  
> and i might edit this chapter later because i've already written up chapter 8 so with all of the continuity issues and stuff, it might change as i write  
> but thank you for reading and please comment because it definitely motivates me to write more!!


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